Birthday Promise
by Arrhythmic Song
Summary: What happens when Fuji's 20th birthday rolls around? FujixTezuka, InuKai, Golden Pair.


Birthday Promise  
  
Cherry Rain: My first PoT fic, also my first slash. Be kind! Review, and tell me what you think, what areas can be improved on, okay? And thanks to my partner in crime, Mystique Kitty, for beta-ing me! Together, we're the duo called Mystique Rain!

* * *

The master of poker faces. The lord of enigmatic smiles.  
  
Tezuka Kunimitsu. Fuji Syusuke.  
  
Buchou. Tensai.  
  
There were so many names that the pair could be referred to by. But as a pair? The two were solitary people, despite the differences in their solitude. Fuji let everyone in and kept everyone out, never letting them too close to his heart, hiding behind playful comments, empty smiles. The Seigaku tennis captain kept everybody alienated. He was to be respected, admired, feared- from afar. Never too close.  
  
But what happens when they _meet_?

* * *

Fuji looked around his house, swamped by the Seigaku tennis team, and felt a small pang that neither Yumiko nor Yuuta was there to celebrate his twentieth birthday. Strangely Fuji had always regarded his twentieth birthday over his eighteenth, though eighteen was the coming-of-age. Somehow, twenty seemed to symbolize maturity.  
  
But of course, the normal rules never quite applied... especially when one tried to fit them to the profile of Tezuka Kunimitsu. Even in high school Tezuka had been mistaken for an adult. And it wasn't surprising. His voice held a surprisingly deep timbre, a beautiful timbre that had captured the hearts of more than half Seigaku's female population.  
  
At the moment, the captain was leaning against the walls, considering that the sofas and couches had been taken over by the rest of the tennis team. There was Kaidoh, sprawled out on the couch and practically begging for mercy and bawling as Inui advanced on him with the feared Inui juice, looking increasingly like a cornered snake, tongue darting out as his eyes shot from one corner of the room to another. The comic picture caused the lines of Fuji's mouth to quirk slightly, but they soon returned to their usual emptiness.  
  
Momoshiro was attempting to control his laughter as he pointed at the helpless Kaidoh. Of course, he shut up when two words issued from Inui's mouth- 'you're next'. Gulping, he sprang up and looked frantically around for an escape route.  
  
Ryoma, their resident ochibi, looked on the antics of his friends with a faint wry smirk on his lips. In fact, the boy never ceased to strike Fuji with just how catlike he was, in terms of manner- calm, unperturbed, not even by the sight of Oishi and Eiji wantonly making out on the sofa, too drunk to care and likely to be too drunk to remember it later. _No doubt ochibi's thinking that refusing to let Sakuno come was a good idea,_ Fuji thought amusedly to himself. _Our Ryoma has a fondness for that pigtailed girl. He just doesn't know it._

* * *

But thoughts of Ryoma's emotional density brought him to another topic- the similar density of Tezuka. No, scratch that. It wasn't that Tezuka didn't know, it was that he was assiduously avoiding anything that would even imply that the relationship between them was anything less than utterly platonic.  
  
Tezuka was a focused person, and Fuji knew that Tezuka had been focused on professional tennis since... forever or something like that. Hell, he wouldn't have been surprised if Tezuka had played tennis in a past life. Of course, it didn't help Fuji to imagine what it would be like to have Tezuka's possessive focus on him.  
  
But then again, there were few people more sadistically inclined and persistent than Fuji Syusuke on the hunt. And then there was the little matter of the birthday bet he had made with himself. Talking with yourself was a sign of insanity, and as such, he was sure betting with himself was, but then again, who cared when the prize was one such as Tezuka?  
  
_I'll get Tezuka Kunimitsu in my bed by the time I turn twenty._  
  
And dramatics dictated that tonight be the night.

* * *

Tezuka liked his corner. It was safe, small, and somewhere where he could look and not be looked at.  
  
It wasn't that he wasn't used to attention. The Seigaku tennis captain was more than used to attention, from fans of both sexes who hung around the tennis court screaming his name every so often. It was just that he didn't like it... especially when it came from one Fuji Syusuke.  
  
The other boy was disturbing. Firstly, there was a certain androgynous aura about him, one that made it amazingly easy to forget that he was male instead of female. And even if he was male, Fuji was nothing short of beautiful. And cerulean eyes. Enough for anyone to drown in- probably why he kept them half-shut most of the time.  
  
In fact, the current subject of his thoughts was attempting to drive him mad each day; pushing Tezuka's already limited self-control further and further to the edge with each innocently seductive comment. If Fuji was attempting to siege his iron will, then the other boy was doing a damn good job. Too good.  
  
It was too dangerous. In a society as straitlaced as the world's, their relationship [if they ever got down to one] would be an aberration, a danger to both their careers as the world's future professional tennis players. And the tensai had too much talent to waste it like that. Despite risking sounding like an arrogant ass, Tezuka knew the extent of his own talent as well.  
  
Currently, Fuji was standing directly across the room from him, and Tezuka brought to mind yet another of the disturbing facts about that sadistically innocent tensai. One never knew when Fuji was watching. And it seemed like Fuji was always watching, especially of late. So when the shorter boy moved to the table to get the last piece of cheesecake from the debris, he breathed a sigh of relief at the reprieve.  
  
However, it was a very brief reprieve as Fuji placed the slice on a plate, got a spoon, and turned to him. Tezuka felt the blow those electric blue eyes dealt to him almost as a physical slap, and he couldn't shake the strange feeling that had settled in his stomach as Fuji detached himself from the rest and inclined his head towards the balcony. A small coil of tension... wound like a spring...  
  
Like a Fuji waiting to strike.  
  
Knowing that it was his doom, he stepped forward, following the shorter boy into the spacious balcony. The first indication that he had made a bad, bad mistake came when Fuji slid the tinted glass doors into place and locked them.  
  
The second indicator came when Fuji slid onto the loveseat in the corner with all the fluid grace of a predatory animal and patted the space next to him, all the while with his smile fixed on his face. The smile that Tezuka had come to long to break.  
  
It wasn't that he wanted Fuji to be unhappy. The fact was that that smile was an indicator of Fuji's solitude, and instinctively Tezuka knew that if he let the relationship between him and Fuji go anywhere that smile would change- if only for him. And change was something scary in Tezuka's ordered, structured life as the buchou of Seigaku's tennis team.  
  
It was a mark of the hypnotic power Fuji held that Tezuka advanced several steps and sat down beside the shorter boy without even the slightest protest.  
  
Fuji blinked twice in pure innocence. The mask was cracking, even if there were no outward signs yet.  
  
The brief silence that followed was seriously intolerable- for Tezuka, at least. The proximity of Fuji's body to his own was getting just the slightest bit disturbing. Of course, it wasn't the fact that he was feeling just the smallest need to nibble Fuji's ear. Of course, it wasn't the fact that Fuji had leaned back, entirely exposing his neck to Tezuka. Of course, it wasn't the fact that Tezuka wanted to jump him there and then. It was just the proximity.  
  
Yeah, and moles flew around in broad daylight wearing pink tutus.  
  
If he had been looking, he would have noticed that Fuji's smile had grown into a smirk. Schooling his expression, Fuji turned to Tezuka. "Was it you who arranged this for me?"  
  
"No, it was Momoshiro," Tezuka replied bluntly.  
  
"As expected," Fuji mused. Tezuka would never have arranged for something as noisy as this. With the asking of the mundane questioned, he had killed the proverbial two birds with the proverbial one stone. A) Tezuka had begun to relax. B) He now had Tezuka's attention. Time for part two.  
  
Suddenly Tezuka was aware of movement from the other boy. He turned- and was immediately caught, like the deer in the glare of the headlights. Fuji was eating the cheesecake. With anyone else it would have been an entirely innocuous affair. With Fuji...  
  
Suffice it to say that it made Tezuka hard-pressed to do refrain from anything along the lines of grabbing the tensai and- _no_. He caught the thought before it went any further and strangled it as viciously as he could. But it certainly didn't change the way Fuji was eating, and a hypnotized Tezuka could do nothing but watch.  
  
The spoon slid in- Tezuka had always found it strange that Fuji used a blunt spoon rather than a sharper fork, but had come to realize that Fuji was like just like that: no one suspected he was dangerous until they saw him in action- and lifted the cake, whipped cream, cheese and all.  
  
Breathing was somehow getting more and more difficult as Fuji wrapped his lips around the spoon, then drew it out again with a tantalizing slowness, letting out small, mewing sounds of satisfaction as he chewed, then swallowed. Sounds that were highly and dangerously suggestive.  
  
_Funny_, Tezuka thought to himself, shutting his eyes to calm the butterflies stomping all over his guts. _I never knew someone could go through heaven and hell at the same time._  
  
For that was exactly what was happening, Tezuka suffering in so much bliss that it was beginning to get painful- or was it the other way round?  
  
Suddenly, "Maa, Tezuka?"  
  
A spoonful of cream, cake and cheese was floating in front of him, held by a hand. Letting his eyes travel down the arm attached to that hand, it eventually led to the angelic, smiling face of Fuji Syusuke. "I noticed you didn't eat any of it earlier," Fuji explained, nudging the spoon slightly closer to Tezuka's lips. "Sakuno-san's not bad at cake-making, you know."  
  
The spoon and its load of chilled cake was now pressed to his mouth, and Tezuka had no choice but to open his mouth to eat, feeling slightly childish as Fuji fed him the spoonful, smiling at him benevolently.  
  
"Not bad, right, Tezuka?" Fuji asked, still smiling, as he chewed and nodded agreement. _Still won't give up, my buchou?_ Fuji thought to himself, smiling inwardly. _Phase Two begins, in that case._ The next spoonful was not of cake, but rather of the cream and cheese, half-fluid half-solidified, in toothpaste-like form.  
  
Flick. Flick. The tip of a pink tongue darted in and out of sight slowly, each time taking in more and more of the rich substance, rolling it around his mouth before swallowing, repeating the process over and over, slowly, languorously, as if in total innocence of what the buchou was suffering as a result.  
  
Fuji. Doing _that_. And not to mention dressed in the white shirt that left nothing to the imagination whatsoever... Tezuka kept his face poker. He couldn't lose control, not as captain of the tennis team. He had to set the right example for the team... it was getting painful to force his mind to override all the signals his body, heart and hormonal glands were flooding through his bloodstream.  
  
_Stubborn to the end, ne, Tezuka?_ Fuji wondered, the inward smirk growing huger. _You can't run away from me. The night's not over by a long, long shot.  
_  
Setting the remainder of the cheesecake down on the little patio table next to them, Fuji leaned back again, looking at the sky. For a moment thoughts of seduction left him, lost in the expanse of utter darkness above him, like the black hole that relentlessly sucked everything into it. Stars hung in frozen poses, shimmering as if in cases of ice, even though they were the fieriest of the celestial bodies.  
  
Of course, his thoughts would never stray too far from Tezuka. "Can you recognize the constellations, Tezuka?"  
  
"No," the buchou replied.  
  
It stood to reason. Tezuka had had nothing in his life except for tennis. _After tonight, you'll have to make a little room for me, though,_ Fuji vowed to himself. "Ever wished upon a shooting star?"  
  
"No." Yet another of the tennis captain's stark, monosyllabic replies.  
  
Fuji sighed, a bittersweet smile on his face. "I used to, until I realized that wishing on the stars never helped anyone. Have you ever heard a song called _The Rainbow Connection_? It's a children's song, but there's a line in it... _what's so amazing that keeps us star-gazing, and what do we think we might see_?"  
  
It was quite a true song, Tezuka realized, pondering the meaning, noting that the false smile had faded from Fuji's face. Little did the tensai know that it was at this moment, with the stars shining down on his face, catching a flawed light in his smoky cerulean eyes, bathing him with the milky glow of the moon, that he was the most irresistible, and yet unreachable, to Tezuka.  
  
"Tell me, Tezuka," Fuji suddenly said, breaking the starlit spell, "What's your favourite sort of weather? Though I could probably guess," Fuji said deprecatingly. "Calm. The best sort of day for tennis."  
  
"Actually, no," Tezuka said, feeling somehow honour-bound to defend himself from Fuji's slightly mocking prediction of the answer. "It's winter."  
  
Fuji's eyes widened fractionally, but he nodded. The winter season, Fuji reflected, suited Tezuka perfectly. The world, captured in a frozen moment. Pure, stainless, perfect, steely gray. There was an undeniable austere beauty to winter- as there was in Tezuka. And then Fuji made a decision.  
  
Tezuka leaned back, but he was unable to relax, aware of Fuji as he was, aware that Fuji was taking his answer and breaking it down to be open to Fuji-interpretation, in a thought process that was the tensai's alone.  
  
Suddenly there was an air of steely determination around him, emanating from Fuji, the sort he recognized as Fuji-about-to-play-very-important- tennis-match, but when Fuji spoke, he voice was as gentle as ever- except for that potent undercurrent of steel. "Tezuka, you have a spot of cream on your lip."  
  
Tezuka subconsciously lifted a hand to his lip, but before he could even complete the motion, Fuji's lips were fastened over his own, the kiss gently demanding, making sure he could not refuse in anyway whatsoever- and who was he to say no, when the boy of his dreams, who haunted his every waking moment, was now in his arms?  
  
Tezuka was seriously pondering whether he was A) dreaming, or B) going mad. And then Fuji's tongue flicked out to slide across his lips, and he stopped caring. If he was dreaming, he was certainly going to take full advantage of it. And if he was going mad, he might as well cross the line properly.  
  
Parting his lips, he let Fuji slip his tongue into his mouth, but in one quick movement, switched positions so that Fuji was the one pressed against the loveseat. Tezuka was relatively sure the pounding in Fuji's heart was matching the erratic beat of his own, Fuji's hand pressed lightly to Tezuka's chest as the captain's arms stole around the smaller boy, crushing Fuji's body to him, savaging his mouth, taking delight in the taste of cheese, cream, and fainter, the light hint of vanilla. Tezuka broke away.  
  
"No, Fuji," he breathed, panting lightly, like he had just fought a practice match. "We can't."  
  
Arms wrapped around his waist, and a head leaned on his back, brown hair falling over his shoulder and skin, tickling through the thin fabric of his shirt, the body warm against him. "Why, Tezuka?" Fuji breathed lightly, warm breath rustling against his neck, his ear. "It won't make a difference to our tennis game. Nobody need ever know. It's just the two of us, Tezuka."  
  
Hearing his name whispered by the tensai was amazingly alluring, and he felt his iron control begin to slip as Fuji went on, voice gaining in hypnotic momentum and passion with each word. "Tezuka, as long as you and I keep it a secret we can continue. What have we to lose? Only nights spent together. Mornings waking up to each other." The oratory faltered for a moment, the smile slipping again, and Fuji made his confession. "I need you with me, Tezuka."  
  
The lapis lazuli blue looking Tezuka in the eye was pleading, imploring, wanting Tezuka to give an answer that was both true, yet what he wanted to hear. Fuji needed him. "As do I," Tezuka finally replied softly, feeling the hunger already starting within him as he looked on the tensai's beautiful face.  
  
Fuji's true smile was dazzling.  
  
"I'll tell the rest to go back."

* * *

It was three hours later that it started to rain, Tezuka and Fuji caught up in each other, tangled in the sheets of a bed, both wearing oversized house shirts and boxers. The last few hours had passed in frantic urgency, touching, kissing, feeling the sense of completeness that both had missed in their lives so far, loving each other in utter rapport. Tezuka, in his possessiveness, Fuji, in his gentle way of yielding that kept him from breaking, both fighting down harsh demands. Not yet. Not to give themselves to each other that way yet.  
  
To hold each other was enough.  
  
Quieter now, their fierce passion subsided into a quieter, more mellow romance, Tezuka nonetheless pulled Fuji closer to him. "Did you know my second favourite type of weather was the storm?"  
  
Fuji would have been surprised just a scanty few hours before, but now he wasn't. Tezuka aroused and wanting was not to be trifled with. He smiled lightly, touching his bruised lip and remembering the force of Tezuka's hunger. "I'm not surprised... beloved."  
  
The buchou regarded the tensai with a certain measure of surprise. "Did you just call me 'beloved'?"  
  
"Yes, I did," Fuji said, momentarily at a loss. What did Tezuka mean by that? Rejection? Surely not... yet...  
  
Then his fears were assuaged as Tezuka let a gentle smile creep out onto his face. "Beloved," he repeated, trying the word out. "I like the sound of it... my love. Aishiteru."  
  
Fuji purred in satisfaction. "Incidentally, Tezuka, the chorus of _The Rainbow Connection_ says: _Someday we'll find it, the Rainbow Connection, the lovers, the dreamers and me_."  
  
Tezuka raised an eyebrow. "Anything else to tell me?"  
  
"I had made a bet with myself that I would be able to seduce you by my twentieth birthday," Fuji said honestly.  
  
"Is that all I am to you?" Tezuka said, voice colder. But he didn't withdraw from Fuji, and that was a source of comfort.  
  
"No," Fuji said, pure vehemence in his tone. "There's so much more now." On impulse, he kissed Tezuka again. "Aishiteru, Tezuka."  
  
"My love," Tezuka murmured as he responded to the kiss.

* * *

Cherry Rain: Wheehee. - R&R!!! 


End file.
